A clerk in a bookstore plays a practical joke on a well-known author which, thanks to Griswold, blows up neatly in his face.

OK, I'm giving this one points for one main reason—there is no conspiracy, no drug ring, no spy ring, nothing untoward at all going on in the bookstore. Griswold spins an elaborate web explaining to his author friend why he might have stumbled into something truly dangerous and it all falls flat, which is nice to see happen at least once.